


we were wrecks before we crashed into each other

by Ottermelon



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, F/F, POV First Person, just a Whole Mess of complicated feelings, so Kanan and Dia are still first-years, takes place after Mari leaves for the first time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ottermelon/pseuds/Ottermelon
Summary: “Loving someone is not a substitute for loving yourself, Kanan.” Dia’s face is usually an open book to me, but right now it’s unreadable.I stare back at her. My tongue feels like lead, as if it protests forcing my next words into the world. “That’s the only way I know how to love. And feel loved.”Dia blinks several times. I hate that I notice how long her eyelashes are. I shouldn’t focus on that at a time like this. She smiles. She’s so unhappy. “I was afraid you’d say that.”(In Mari’s absence, Kanan and Dia navigate the differences between love, dependency, and attachment, and find the ways in which the three can be so painfully intertwined.)





	we were wrecks before we crashed into each other

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of this is inspired by [this](https://dynasty-scans.com/series/this_one_goes_out_to_all_the_17_year_olds) fantastic KanaDia doujin. seriously, read it. the world would be a better place if everyone did.
> 
> i know the timing of this story isn't so great with the movie coming out so soon. but really, if i don't post it now, when else would i?
> 
> title and chapter 1 title are taken from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ydv6usKn2rg) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jStR7SMv-kM), respectively. lastly, if you're here to read some happy things, i think you're in the wrong place.

 

It’s been a month since Mari left. Dia and I still hang out. Often, too.

Maybe we shouldn’t. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t think that way. Dia and I have always been friends, even before Mari came along. We’re not dependent on her to keep up our relationship.

But…

Mari’s absence is… yawning. And we’re reminded of her every time we see each other. Which is every day. But we never bring any of that up. Mari, Aqours, the fact that it’s all over.

We can’t keep running away from all that. We can’t run forever. But I’m scared of what talking about it will do to me, and to Dia. So we just try to live our days like we always have…

Actually, that’s wrong. It’s impossible for us to live like we always have. Mari’s gone, and the only way to fix the damage that’s caused is for her to come back. Since that’s impossible, Dia and I just have to cope. And we’re failing at that. Miserably.

We make time for each other, of course, even though we’re both busy. That’s what friends do. We talk about unimportant things, and when I ask her if she’s okay, she always gives an automatic “Yes.” It’s like she’s hard-wired herself to brush it off, to convince me that I shouldn’t worry about her. It doesn’t work. I’m always worried about her.

* * *

 

“Kanan!”

I’m already thinking about what I’ll be doing after school. Maybe I’ll get out of running the shop if I say I have homework. It hasn’t worked before, but if I sound pitiable enough -

“Kanan!”

I turn around to see Dia bouncing up to me. It’s a weird sight - she looks so cheery. Energetic, even. Didn’t think the student council would have that much of an effect on her.

“What’s got you so pumped?” I grin at her. She comes to a dead stop in front of me, but she’s still buzzing with energy.

“Can you come with me to the council room?”

I can’t hold back a laugh. It’s so different than what I was expecting, but at the same time, this is Dia. Of course she’d get excited over council work. “Can I ask why? Sounds like a blast, but I’ll have to think about it if you just want help sorting papers.”

“Well…” she deflates a little. I feel a twinge of regret, because an excited Dia is almost a relic of the past. Especially since Mari -

No. Can’t think about that right now. Not in front of Dia, _especially_ not in front of Dia. But of course, that’s when all of our failures from this past year threaten to flood my mind and my mouth, spewing them out in a rush before I can stop them. I wonder if I do the same to her, if we just remind each other of Mari, of Aqours, of all the ways we would have ended up anywhere but here.

What are we doing?

“Kanan?”

I start as Dia’s gentle voice shocks me out of my spiralling thoughts. Realizing she’s staring into my eyes, I take the smallest of steps back, wondering if she notices. “S-sorry.” Dammit. It’s already happening. I don’t know if I trust myself to lie if she asks what’s wrong. And she might; this is Dia, after all. “Spaced out for a bit,” I try. It’s pretty weak, and I just have to hope Dia won’t press the issue.

She frowns. “I didn’t know assisting me with council work pained you that much.” She looks genuinely hurt, and now I just want to get out of here as soon as possible, because I’m stuck in a weird place. If I let her continue thinking I’m allergic to the council room, then I’ll feel bad about lying to her. But if I tell her something else is bothering me, she’ll get worried and press me for more information, which will inevitably lead to me name-dropping our friend whose name starts with “M” and ends with “ari.”

I decide to keep lying. She might believe it, or she might get the hint that I want to avoid the actual source of my worries at all costs. “That’s not it. I’m just tired.” Seeing her face fall even further, I hurry to add, “But I’ll help you out. I really don’t want to run the shop right now. It’ll be a nice change of pace.”

The smallest hints of a smile play at her mouth. I feel a little better, because I’m being partly honest. Spending time with Dia sounds better than putting up with customers, even if we’re just pushing papers. “Of course. You’re doing the school a great service.” She whips around, and we head off towards the council room. I bite back a response about how I have no sense of civic duty. Besides, spending time with Dia can’t be that bad. Right?

When Dia slides open the door, I can see why she’d resort to asking me for help. “Where is everyone?” I chew on my lip, feeling a bit of dread creeping into the corners of the empty room.

“They’re occupied with other obligations,” Dia says simply, pulling up a chair at the lone table in the room. “I thought you might prefer that, since you’re not familiar with the other council members.”

Making sure I don’t run into other people? That’s a weird way to care about me, especially since I’m not that bad with strangers. Probably shouldn’t think about it too much. There’s something worse I have to worry about right now. “Yeah, but doesn’t that mean more work for us?”

Dia pushes a stack of that “work” across the table, where there’s one other empty chair. “I assure you, we’ll be done before you know it.” She beams at me, and I have to fight the urge to run.

With a sigh, I plop down across from her, taking the first sheet off the stack. I get about five words in before my vision starts wandering. I steal a glance at Dia. She’s all business already, her nose buried in her own stack. I don’t know how she does this every single day, and there’s no hope for me to drag her away from all this. Wouldn’t that be good for us? We’d stop by a cafe, chat for a while. Sounds nice, right? Mari would agree -

Ah. Crap. There I go again. Mari _would_ agree, but that doesn’t matter because -

“Kanan?”

I snap to attention, flushing when I see the concern painted on Dia’s face. “Yeah?”

She looks me up and down, and I tense on instinct. I’d rather not feel like I’m being stabbed through by her stare. “Perhaps you should go home and rest. You’re out of it.”

“No!” It comes out more forceful than I intended. Dia’s eyes widen, then narrow in suspicion. I scramble for something more convincing. “I just… don’t know what this thing means. What’s an A-03?” I show her the paper I’m holding, which seems like it’s partly written in another language. Didn’t know clubs had to jump through so many hoops to get supplies or funding.

Dia eyes me for a second too long, then sighs. “An A-03 is simply the name of the form used for clubs should they need to change their list of required materials for the semester.”

Yeah, this isn’t working. “I… see.” I try to force out something agreeable, but clearly, it’s not enough, because Dia takes the paper from my limp hands. Once again, she eyes me, and I curse my lack of self-control. I let myself be so occupied with Mari even now. It’s affecting every single interaction I have with Dia. It’s awful.

“Kanan, you’d rather be somewhere else, wouldn’t you?” Dia’s voice is gentle, laden with concern, and I almost feel like I’d rather her be angry at me, call out my lack of discipline. Anything but sympathy.

“Of course not.” I look away. “You’re here, and I like spending time with you.”

She’s quiet for a while. Just when I start to feel uncomfortable, she asks in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, “Just me?”

It’s a weird question, and I think she knows it. She looks away, but doesn’t try to backtrack or cover it up. I’m not _that_ stupid; I know what she’s implying. While I take my time deciding whether to cross this line or not, to finally talk about the ghost of Mari, who’s been haunting us in every moment that she’s been gone, Dia gets up.

“Actually, you may be rubbing off on me. I think I need a break.” She walks briskly towards the door. “Would you like to join me for a walk?”

I don’t know how to react. Only the sound of the door sliding open forces me out of my seat. Maybe I should just let her go out on her own. She can cool off and when she comes back, we’ll be able to continue pushing our biggest failures to the side.

But without Mari, I’m lonely. And so is Dia. I can’t leave her like this. She’s just standing in the doorway, tapping her foot but not looking at me. I try to crack a smile and put my hand on her shoulder. “That sounds nice. And yes, I like spending time with you. Just you.”

She smiles back at me, although it’s a bit too tight-lipped for my liking. “Thank you. Shall we?” She sets off down the hall, and I realize I don’t know where she wants to go. Guess that’s alright. I’ll follow her wherever.

* * *

 

We make it out of the school and as far as the shoreline before Dia says something.

“What are we doing, Kanan?”

It’s such a perfect scene - something out of a movie. I think about that sometimes; how picturesque but quiet Uchiura is, how we’re so far from anything but ourselves, how we have to use this beautiful scenery to substitute for the lack of anything that happens in our lives. And when something does happen, it’s bad.

Our lives would make a sad, boring movie, I think.

Dia’s standing there with her back to me, the gentle ocean breeze swaying her hair. It’s still early afternoon, bright but also a bit chilly. The water laps at her feet, and she doesn’t move back, even though the ocean has to be pretty frigid right now. It’s November. She’s beautiful as always.

I step forward to be at her side. Our eyes meet. She silently pleads with me for an answer.

Nothing we do can replace the void that Mari left. Dia knows this as well as I do. So why is she asking me?

“I don’t know.”

Her hand prods at mine. I let her touch me, and she does for a moment before finally locking our fingers together. She’s mulling over what to say, and I want to help her, but I’ve said my piece. I’d rather not lie. I don’t want to assure her that we’re doing fine when we’re not.

The tide comes in again and swamps our feet. I shudder. I’m kinda out of my element if I don’t have my diving suit on in cold water. Maybe that’s surprising, but I’m just not built for that.

The water’s clear enough that I can see Dia curling her toes through the sand. “What _should_ we do?” she asks, her eyes glued to her feet.

I shrug, bringing our hands up slightly. The tide’s up at our ankles now. I murmur, “What else _can_ we do?”

Dia scowls. She swings our hands back and forth, like we’re kids going on a carefree walk together. “You answered my question with a question.”

I force out an empty laugh. “Yeah. I’m just as lost as you are.”

This is agonizing. Talking about Mari without really talking about Mari. Seconds crawl by, and I breathe a sigh of relief for every one where Dia doesn’t ask any more questions. I can’t reassure her. I can’t make her feel better about this. But I can be here for her.

* * *

 

We never try to eat lunch on the rooftop.

I went up there after school once. I got as far as the door, which was wide open. Dia was up there, her back to me, and I knew where that would go if I tried to join her. I wasn’t ready, and I don’t think she was either.

Honestly, I’m not managing well. I like hanging out with Dia. She’s great, and she’s trying her best to manage. So am I. But if we just let this whole mess hang over our heads without ever really talking about it, then at some point, the hurt that brings is going to outweigh the good things we do for each other.

We’re not even trying to move on. We’re just pretending this isn’t as big of a problem as it really is.

Do we even deserve to move on? Were our missteps with Mari so great, so awful, that this gaping hole in our relationship is also our punishment?

I don’t know.

Ugh. Thinking about it too much makes my head hurt. All I know is that _someone_ has to do something.

* * *

 

There’s a knock at the door of the shop. I get out of my seat with a groan. We’re very clearly closed. I swear, customers don’t know how to read, or they just think we’re at their beck and call 24/7. I once had a bunch of tourists knock on the shop’s door at 1 AM. Seriously. If I didn’t love diving, I would’ve gone for something non service-related long ago.

I swing the door open. “We’re closed -” I say, rolling my eyes, but I’m quickly shut up when I see who’s outside.

“Maybe for business,” Dia glares at me, since I greeted her rudely. Not my fault. Didn’t know it was her. “But are you closed for me?”

I shrug and step to the side to let her in, grinning when I see the plastic bag she’s carrying. “Not when you brought food.”

“More importantly than that, I brought this.” She walks through the threshold and holds up her other hand, where she’s carrying a cheap-looking stereo system..

I cock my head, looking between the two mismatched items. “What’s with the stereo? You know I’m not that big on music.”

“I beg to differ.” She locks eyes with me. I feel the need to look away, and I do, wrinkling my nose to cover up my discomfort. She caught me lying. I don’t like being called out.

“Want to head up to my room?” I take the stereo from her, and my hand skims hers. I start towards my bedroom knowing she’ll follow me, and she does. Neither of us bother to turn on the light.

But when I sit on my bed, the stereo in my lap, Dia starts to fidget. She looks down and lets the plastic bag swing gently in her hand. I watch her until it goes on for too long. “C’mon, DIa, don’t be shy.” I pat the sheets next to me. She glares at me but still joins me on the bed.

I take a bag at random from the pile and peel it open. Our legs swing off the edge of the bed. I’m pretty sure Dia didn’t come over just to sit on my bed, but she’s not budging.

“Alright, Dia, spill it. What’s up?”

She exhales, letting out a short laugh along with it. “I have a silly idea. I had no intention of committing to it, but…” She looks at me, as seriously and earnestly as she ever has. “I figured that I’d run it by you, at the very least. If you laugh, I’ll know for sure we shouldn’t try it.”

I frown. Dia’s usually not this indirect. I lean in a bit, studying her face, and she shrinks away. “I don’t understand, but okay. What is it?”

She reaches for the stereo, pressing down on the CD player. It opens to reveal a clear, unlabeled disc already inside. She lets me stare at it for a few seconds. I still don’t get it, so I look up to her for an explanation.

“That disc contains all of the songs we wrote and recorded,” she murmurs, caressing the top of the CD with care. “The three of us. You, me, and Mari.”

My breath catches, and I’m surprised that I have such a strong reaction. It happened before I even had time to think about it. Dia probably notices, too, but she doesn’t say anything. “So…” I try, letting my unspoken question hang in the air for a moment.

“Yes. I would like for us to listen to them. Really, truly listen.”

I’m still confused. I stare at the CD, already in the player, and I almost feel mocked that it’s unlabeled. If it really does contain all of our songs, like Dia said, then it should at least look more important than it does, sitting there all unassuming and blank. “Why?” is all I can manage at the moment.

Dia’s eyes flicker between me and the CD. She hesitates, and as she does, all of the feelings about our failed attempt at idolhood begin to well up inside of me, making my heart hurt. I look away from her, feeling a pressure building beneath my eyes. I haven’t thought about these songs ever since Mari left, and I now realize that was stupid of me. I couldn’t have run from them forever, and from the looks of it, Dia’s already trying to deal with the feelings the songs carry. On her own. That’s really unfair of her. Doesn’t she need me? Now that Mari’s gone, we’re all we have left.

“I think…” Dia closes the CD player and picks up the power cord. “We need to realize that this is all we have now. It’s not a lot, and it’s not what we hoped for, but it’s something.”

“I…” It was a mistake to try and talk, because my voice shakes. I’m not crying yet, but I still put a hand to my face, blinking away the tears that aren’t there. Dia’s made her point, and now it’s up to me to decide what I want to do with it.

Just like so many idol groups, the few songs that we did write radiated hope and positivity. How the impossible is always possible if you have your friends by your side, how there’s always a solution to even the most intimidating problems, how your faults don’t define you. That kinda thing.

It’s all well and good when the idols that make those songs believe in them too. In fact, that’s necessary for an idol group to succeed. They need to be the first believers in their message before they can truly reach anyone else.

Our dream is dead. Mari’s gone. We can’t reach anyone with these songs. So what’s the point of them? Why do they need to exist?

I’m scared of what I’ll hear when these tracks start playing. “Have you listened to these since Mari left?” I find my voice, thankful that it doesn’t crack.

Dia shakes her head. “I think about them often, but… no. I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

I hand her the stereo. She takes it and rests it halfway on my nightstand. “I can’t either,” I admit. She plugs it in, and it powers on right away.

“Do you think we can do it together?” she asks. Her eyes are silently pleading with me. I realize how open she’s being right now, how she trusts me with this uncertain side of her.

I can’t let her down. “We might as well try. We’re just gonna listen, right? Nothing else?”

She nods. “Pardon the intrusion.” She gets up. I’m confused as I watch her move to the other side of the bed, until she flops down on it, her hair splaying every which way across the pillow. She frowns when she sees me staring. “What?”

I take a deep breath. When I lay down beside her, I draw my arms into myself. If I didn’t, we’d already be touching, and I’m afraid of what that will do to me, especially as we listen to these songs that we poured our souls into. Staring up at the ceiling, I say, “Maximum immersion, right? That’s what you’re gonna say?”

She laughs. “Yes. This is the best way to listen.”

I turn to face her at the same time that she does the same for me. Our noses almost touch. Neither of us react, but I can say for sure that I almost bolt up when I see how close we are. I wonder what she thinks about this. “Are you ready?” I whisper.

“No,” she admits, and we both giggle, our nerves audible even in that short moment of laughter. “But go ahead.”

* * *

 

Listening to these songs now, we have every right to be proud of what we made. Dia’s the only one with any musical experience, but she always seemed to pluck fully-arranged songs from thin air. Mari had to come up with materials for costumes on her own, and she always managed to fashion something beautiful, even if they were a bit too frilly for my tastes. And I gave our songs life on stage, even though I had no idea what the word “choreography” meant before we started.

Really, it’s a miracle that we got as far as we did.

Dia and I are inches apart, and though we haven’t exchanged a single word since the CD started playing, I think we’ve reached the same conclusion.

The song that’s playing right now is one with Mari as the center. She’s up on the intro right now, backed by a flourish of cymbals that fade into a soft piano. It’s the only accompaniment as she sings, until the song reaches an explosion of sound, the main melody crashing in at just the right time. I’m going over the steps in my head. As the song moves into its soaring chorus, I remember all the smiles we’d beam at the crowd as we worked around each other, with each other, the three of us on that stage that should have been too big for us to take on.

It’s pointless to pretend that we’re the same girls who formed Aqours, or even the same girls who came crashing down a few months later. Dia’s right: this is all we have left. But is it something worth holding on to?

The song’s dropped lower again. I see my opportunity.

“Hey. Dia.” It feels almost disrespectful to intrude on the song.  I’m not ready to face her, so I simply lay there and wait for a response. Her breathing is so even, I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. She probably hasn’t, since she can be a pretty horrendous snorer.

“Yes?”

“What are you thinking right now?”

The song’s reaching its final chorus. I shiver, realizing that we’d written three-part vocal harmonies into this song’s climax. It wasn’t easy to pull off. We kept getting in each other’s way, singing the wrong part or the wrong notes altogether. We were scared to do it live, but we tried our best. And it worked to thunderous applause.

That’s not the version we’re hearing right now, which was rehearsed many times over in Mari’s makeshift recording studio. I’m pretty sure it took us at least ten takes each. Maybe more. But one correct take is all we needed, because our three-part harmonies in perfect sync give the illusion of perfection. Our voices blend together flawlessly. It was a perfection we were never able to repeat live, despite the thunderous applause. But no one cared, not even us.

“I miss her, Kanan.” She whispers it so softly that I have to turn her words over in my head. It takes a couple seconds for me to do that.

“Me too.”

The song ends. I hear the CD being lifted from its player. I guess it was the last one. I don’t bother to start playing it again, and the resulting silence seems deafening. I think of the bag of snacks lying at the foot of my bed, untouched. I don’t want to get crumbs on my bed anyway, so maybe Dia will let me keep them for later.

“Why did it have to end like this?” Dia’s voice isn’t any louder, but it fills the silent void left by our music’s absence. “What did we do wrong, Kanan?”

There’s the smallest of tremors in her voice. She’s still trying to keep it together, and it would work if she weren’t doing this in front of me. These are questions with so many possible answers, many of which will just make us even more upset. And she’s relying on me to assure her, to find an answer for her.

I think she’s asking too much of me. But I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try. I reach for her hand, and when I find it, I can feel her trembling. She clasps her fingers around mine, stroking my palm, and I’m content for only a moment. I can’t get lost in this, though, because it’s not enough of an answer for either of us.

“We put too much hope in the future, Dia.” My words come slowly. Maybe we’ll both believe them if I don’t trip or stumble over them. “We couldn’t focus on the _now_. We knew the dangers of letting Mari perform when she was injured… but we just couldn’t see what might happen if she _did_. If we had succeeded despite that.”

I let out a shaky breath. It’s hard for me to revisit that moment backstage. I’d known that our decision there would affect our entire future, and I resented how the responsibility to make that decision fell to me. I still do. “I think…” I squeeze Dia’s hand a little bit tighter, and she returns the gesture. “I think if we’d made it through that… we would’ve made it through anything.”

Dia’s quiet for a bit. The resulting silence is agonizing, and the only comfort she gives is in her hand, her thumb running gently across the backside of my palm. “But… what if we hadn’t? What if Mari had gotten hurt because we urged her to press through it?”

I close my eyes, and though the memories are so painful, I think about those pivotal moments backstage. Mari, doubled over in pain, but forcing a smile. Dia, scared into silence, her eyes wavering between Mari and…

Me. If I’m being completely honest, I felt like I was being crushed by the unspeakable pressure that resonated between the three of us. I wanted to run as far away from the venue as possible, because with Dia and Mari putting their complete trust in me, I felt like there was no way out. Every decision I could have made had an equally terrifying outcome.

My heart clenches. It’s so unfair.

“Then she’d still be here,” I say. “But she might’ve resented us. Seeing her every day, in pain because we encouraged her to perform…” I hurriedly wipe at my eyes, fighting back the tears that such an awful scenario brings about. “I never would’ve forgiven myself.”

“That might be worse than her being gone completely.” Dia’s kneading her fingers through mine again, although this time I think it’s a little less voluntary.

“It’s probably pointless to go over all of those scenarios.”

“I can’t help myself. It’s all I can think about.”

I laugh. I feel so defeated. Resigned. Because Dia and I feel the same way, and in trying to assure her to think differently, I’m really just trying to assure myself. But I don’t believe in my own words. So why would Dia believe them?

She wouldn’t, of course.

I hear Dia draw in a deep breath. I hold mine too, wondering what she’ll say next. “Then, do you want to focus on the now?”

“What do you mean?”

I hear her moving around, and my curiosity overpowers my fear. I turn my head to see her. She’s on her side now, her eyes scared but firm. I can’t look away.

“I’m scared, Kanan. That we’re going to spend the rest of our lives wondering what would have happened if we went up on stage that day. Mari might still be here if we had. I don’t want to feel that regret with anything else. With anyone else.”

I don’t know what she’s getting at. I can only nod, silently asking for her to continue.

“So I’m going to take every chance that I have. It’s what Mari would want, too.”

“She would,” I whisper. Dia’s looking down now, no longer wanting to look at me. I reach out with my other hand and cup her cheek. When our eyes meet again, it makes me want to cry. She looks so vulnerable. She doesn’t show this side of herself to anyone but me and Mari, and I feel like I need to be grateful for that.

I think I know what Dia’s getting at now. “We need each other to get through this,” I say. “We can’t sit and wonder all by ourselves.”

She nods. “I was thinking the same thing. I just… didn’t know how to tell you. I thought this -” she motions to the space around us with her free hand “- was a silly idea because I might have been the only one agonizing over it.”

“Hell no.” She’s so wrong, I want to laugh. “I’m sure you noticed. We’ve been acting like Mari’s still here. Or that she’s going to come back and we can pick this all up again.”

“And she’s not here.” Dia shifts around. I wonder if she’s uncomfortable, if being this close to me, whispering like we’re exchanging some world-breaking secret, is making her self-conscious. “But you are.”

We’re so close to each other that I can’t hide the way my breath catches. She’s caught me. Again. And I can’t cover it up or lie about it. The only answer I can find is a weak “Yeah.” that’s not much more than a croak. Doesn’t she realize what she’s _doing_? What saying that might mean when we’re this close to each other?

I roll onto my back again. Dia moves with me, our hands still joined, and she nestles her head into my shoulder. My heart is exploding. I can’t take this.

“Dia?” I whisper, feeling her breath against my neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking every chance that I have.”

I move my head a little. Her hair brushes against my cheek, and I catch its scent. I’d be surprised if she couldn’t feel my pounding heart. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I just…” she sighs, and the air against my neck sends me into another daze. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

“Of course you won’t lose me.” My hand twitches. I give in and reach up to run a hand through her hair. She jumps a bit but doesn’t protest. “We’re all we’ve got left, right?”

“Yes.” She wriggles closer to me, leaving no empty space between us. My hand curls around her shoulder. It’s kind of awkward, with her on her side and me on my back. I feel like I can’t properly hold her. But we stay that way until the silence stops ringing in my ears. I take comfort in our even breathing, relaxing as we lay in the remains of the songs we wrote together.

I fall asleep before she does, my own words stuck in my head. We’re all we’ve got left.

* * *

 

It’s been a week, and something’s changed between us.

We haven’t spent any time together since that night. And Dia can’t look me in the eye.

What the hell? Was it something I said? Or was it something she said?

_I don’t want to lose you too._

Of course I don’t want to lose her either. That should go without saying. I think she and I were on the same page for a while there. We both knew that sweeping this whole Mari thing under the rug would just hurt us in the end, but we were scared.

I’m not scared anymore, and I don’t think she is. So why are things so weird?

I know why. I’m not gonna act like I don’t and drag this out longer than I need to.

That night, we laid next to each other and laid our souls bare. I was hyper-aware of Dia. Her every movement, especially when we clasped our hands together or her hair brushed against my cheek.

So when Dia said that she didn’t want to lose me, that seemed a lot like a confession. When she moved in close and I accepted her, that seemed a lot like I was accepting her feelings, too.

So uh. Yeah. That opens up a whole new can of worms. It’s probably why Dia’s kinda been avoiding me. She knows how… “romantic” that night was for both of us. Even though the mood wasn’t really there and we were airing out our grievances, she had to have noticed what she was doing to me. And maybe she felt I was doing the same to her.

I don’t regret anything we exchanged that night, though. I think we really do need to hold onto each other. I can’t imagine losing both Mari and Dia in a short time. I’d be so alone, and I’m kinda glad that Dia feels the same way. It was important we made that clear.

But… to go so far as dating? Like, Dia? And me?

Well…

Honestly, I can count up a bunch of reasons for us not to date. Especially because we’re in kind of a bad spot right now. We’ve addressed the Mari situation, but that doesn’t mean we’ve solved it, or that we’re okay now. Maybe we should focus on that first.

But I can think of one really, really good reason that we should date.

If we both need each other, what better way to show it than to go out? There’s no better way.

I’ve made up my mind. Now all that’s left is to convince Dia that we should. She’s probably a little scared of that too, since she’s avoiding me, but I think I can sway her enough.

* * *

 

As luck would have it, I don’t have to track her down. She comes to me a couple days later, after school. It’s the one time where I have my nose in a book, since I have nothing else to do while I run away from helping out at home. It’s kinda interesting, I guess - sappy but well-written. The door slides open, and I see Dia poke her head inside.

I put on a smile for her. “What’s up?”

She looks around and, seemingly satisfied with what she sees, steps inside and slides the door shut behind her. “Nothing. I just wanted to spend a little time with you.” She takes a seat at the empty desk next to mine.

“Of course.” I close the book and push it off to the side. I don’t think there’s a point in skirting around what I want to talk about. So I prop my chin up on a hand and flash a smile at her. “Wanna pick up where we left off?”

I’d thought that Dia would feign ignorance. Maybe she’d say something like “ _What ever do you mean?”_ while scratching away at her mole. She’d know exactly what I mean. But she surprises me. She looks right at me, and though she balls her skirt up in her hands a little, she’s probably prepared for this.

“You’re referring to what we did last week, correct?” Her face is red, her words quiet but strong.

“Yeah.” I just committed to not skirting around this, but all of a sudden I feel a twinge of doubt. If we do this, there’s no going back. We could seriously hurt each other if this goes badly. Because if we’re all we have left, and we can’t make this work… well, we have so much to lose.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I can’t think that way. Dia was right: we need to take every chance that we have. If we push each other away right now, that’s no better than how we let our chance with Mari pass us by. And that’s just a depressing thought. That would mean we’ve learned nothing. That Mari left for nothing.

Dia’s still waiting for an answer from me. I know that we need to take this chance, but first, I need to make sure that both of us really do want this. “Are you planning on taking back anything you said?” I drop my laid-back facade. I need her to know that I’m taking this seriously.

“No.” She shakes her head slowly. “I’m not embarrassed to be vulnerable in front of you, Kanan. I meant everything I said that night.”

“But in what way?” I slide my chair a little closer, grimacing when it creaks and squeaks against the laminate. I can see Dia stiffen, but she doesn’t break eye contact with me. “We really do need each other. Even more now that Mari’s gone.”

I lean in. I’m still not sure how to introduce the question, but hey, I think that goes for everyone our age. Guess I just have to wing it. “Dia, did you feel anything when you were lying next to me?”

“Wh-what?” I can see the flush on her face creep to her ears. There’s the embarrassed deflection I was looking for. That’s okay, though. I can admit this to her first. Encourage her a bit.

I take a deep breath. My heart’s racing, and I can feel it in my ears. It’s like the empty classroom is causing my heartbeats to careen off the walls, making it even louder. Dia can probably hear it too, if her own heart isn’t racing, anyway. “I felt something. I kept thinking about how close you were to me. And…” I reach out and take her hand in mine. She doesn’t protest. “I think I want that.”

She stares at our joined hands. She’s so surprised. Open. I’m sure she’s thought about this, but thinking about it and actually having it happen are two different things. I’m in the same boat; my heart’s about to leap out of my chest.

“I do too,” she murmurs. She leans closer to me too. I want to give in and hold her, but I have to make sure we know what’s at stake here. And maybe I’m still a little scared.

“I want to be as close to you as possible.” I bring my other hand to clasp hers, holding it with both of mine. “To make sure we don’t lose each other.”

“Between that and how we felt that night, you’re saying… we should date?” Dia nods, although it’s more like bobbing her head with how slow she’s doing it. She’s probably still wrapping her head around the idea.

“Yeah.” I allow myself a smile, and it becomes more real when I see her mirror the expression. “That’s the best way to prove all that stuff. How we need each other and everything. Right?” I’m kinda glad that she was the one to say it. It shows how she’s at least entertained the idea too.

But just because we’ve both rolled it around in our heads… does that mean it’s a _good_ idea?

There go my doubts again. Still, I can’t ignore them. We can’t pretend like we’re not taking a risk here, promising to be so reliant on each other.

“I want to be close to you too, Kanan.” Dia says, smiling down at our hands. “But… perhaps we should be a little more cautious. If we couldn’t keep Mari here with us, then how are you confident that we can make this work?”

I wish I could assure her. Reasonably, I mean. Not purely through what we’re feeling. For now, I have to cross my heart and hope that will be enough, because I really don’t think we can stand being apart right now. “Honestly, I’m not.” I see her tense, but I have to push through. “Maybe you’re right. But you also said that we need to take every chance we have.”

I’m surprised at how quickly I feel my eyes welling up. I can’t stop the tears from leaking out this time. This wasn’t part of the plan. I actually hate when anyone sees me cry. “I’m just scared, Dia,” I sniff, hating how Dia simply waits for me to put myself together. She’s so patient, but I shouldn’t be making her watch me cry so freely. “If we don’t take this chance, I’m scared that I’m going to lose you. That’s not what you want either. Is it?”

Dia loosens her hand from mine and embraces me. I give in, letting the tears fall freely onto her shoulder as she runs her hands down my back. I don’t really sob. It’s more of a silent crying, and I’m kind of thankful for that. At least I’m not a complete mess.

“Of course I don’t want that,” she murmurs, her voice warm and tender and far too kind. “Of course I’m scared of losing you. But I’m also scared of being too hasty. If we’re going to do this, and be even closer than we were before, we need to at least acknowledge there’s a risk in this too.”

She’s right, of course. I mean, it’s Dia. I’d be more worried if she hadn’t thought this through. I still have to collect myself; Dia’s uniform is kinda soaked now. I feel bad about that. I’ll probably offer to wash it for her later.

When I find my voice, it’s still shaken, but I’m not trying to keep up an appearance around her. “I know. We just can’t mess this one up.”

She doesn’t say anything for a bit. Both of her hands are still on my back. I’m almost content to stay like this until… until whenever, really. It’s kind of nice. Our feelings are out in the open, but we haven’t committed to anything one way or the other. Considering how things have gone for us up until now, I’d almost prefer staying here, where we don’t have to deal with the consequences of our actions.

Of course, that’s not gonna happen, and I’m reminded of that when Dia pulls back. She straightens out her uniform, trying not to look at her soaked shoulder, though I’m sure it’s bothering her. “Okay, Kanan. I still think we should be cautious, but…” She takes in my tear-streaked face with an expression that’s somewhere between sadness and acceptance. I don’t bother to hide it. “... I want this. And you clearly want this too. I can’t hold back.” She reaches for my hand again, smiling when we intertwine.

Her smile makes me want to start crying all over again. “Sounds good to me.”

“Please treat me well.” She bows her head a little, and my heart’s sent into another frenzy. Out of courtesy, and because it’s Dia, I return the gesture, and we share an innocent laugh.

I feel like I need to hold on to this moment. Dia and I are happy… happy enough. If we’re here for each other, we might be able to cope. And if I don’t believe in that, then I’m just slating for Dia and me to crash and burn. That’s the last thing I want.


End file.
